


Can't Spell Lust Without UST

by Amelia_Clark



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Trope Challenge [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Episode Related, Episode: s10e05 Fan Fiction, First Kiss, First Time, I swear, M/M, Oh look, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Rimming, Top Castiel, it got romantic, sex pollen but not dubcon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:19:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sits up, wincing at the ache in his groin, and rubs his eyes. There's a dark-haired woman in a flowy white dress standing at the foot of his bed, and she's got Sam with her, duct tape over his mouth. She’s holding his wrist in what must be an iron grip, judging by his fruitless struggle, and on her other side, likewise restrained—"Cas? Hey, what's going on? Who the hell are you?"</p><p>She curves berry-red lips into a smirk. "My name is Erato," she says. "You killed my sister."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Spell Lust Without UST

**Author's Note:**

> **#8: Sex pollen AU**
> 
>  
> 
> Well. This turned out much longer than I intended, and guys? I think it's the best damn porn I've ever written.
> 
> And I'm pretty sure I successfully un-dubconned it--like, there's explicit verbal consent--but Dean _is_ under a spell, so ymmv.

In a motel room somewhere in Illinois, Dean wakes with a start and a raging hard-on to the scent of roses.

"Oh good," says an unfamiliar female voice. "You're up—well," a laugh. "More up. Rise and shine, Dean."

Dean sits up, wincing at the ache in his groin, and rubs his eyes. There's a dark-haired woman in a flowy white dress standing at the foot of his bed, and she's got Sam with her, duct tape over his mouth. She’s holding his wrist in what must be an iron grip, judging by his fruitless struggle, and on her other side, likewise restrained—"Cas? Hey, what's going on? Who the hell are you?"

She curves berry-red lips into a smirk. "My name is Erato," she says. "You killed my sister."

"You'll have to be more specific. I kill a lot of monsters," Dean says. "You are a monster, yeah?"

"Hardly," the woman—Erato—says. "I'm a muse, like my sister Calliope. You remember her, don't you? She showed up to eat that little Max Fischer wannabe, Paul Bunyan here shoved a stake in her back? I'm not fond of people who kill my family, Dean. I'm sure you understand."

"Awesome, vengeful goddess before breakfast." Why the fuck is he still so hard? Danger's sort of a turn-on, sure, but it's not usually this literal.

"You're wondering about your whole south-of-the-border situation," says Erato. "All me, Dean, though not in the way you'd think."

OK, this is just getting weirder. "Look," Dean says. "You're gonna give me a whole spiel before the fight starts, go ahead and get on with it. I'm pretty impatient before coffee."

Erato shrugs. "Aren't we all? But yes, you're right, I'd like to explain myself. You see, Dean, I'm the muse of erotic poetry. Where Callie inspires epics, nurtures authors—I have different needs. And they're not being fulfilled at the moment.

"Marie's little play was adorable, indeed, but she left these loose ends that nag me, Dean. Unresolved sexual tension may be enough for my sister, but I demand more from my writers. I thrive on sexual energy, and subtext just ain't gonna cut it."

"And this means?"

"You've got a choice, Dean. You can have sex with your brother"—Sam looks at her with alarm—"or Feathers here." Cas glances uneasily at Dean and drops his eyes to the floor. "I'll eat my fill and be on my way. What do you think?"

"You're—you're not going to kill us?"

"Not directly, no. Munching writers was Callie's nasty little quirk. I feed on flesh in a more metaphorical sense. But it's true that if you don't choose, Dean, if you don't fuck one of these lovely gentlemen here, you'll die of sheer unfulfilled desire. It's not a good way to go."

Dean sits there, stunned, and he can't help but notice he's gotten even harder—honestly, he's not sure the last time he was this dizzily aroused. Maybe never. Despite the fucked-up situation, his whole body wants one thing and one thing only, and while he'd usually be raring to go, well—fucked-up situation. "Why me?" he blurts suddenly. "Sam stabbed your skank sister. Why doesn't he have to get it on or die?"

"Goddess," she says. "Capricious. Come on, Dean, I'm hungry. Pick or I'll pick for you."

"Cas!" Dean says hurriedly. "Cas. If I gotta, I'll, uh, I'll fuck Cas."

Erato smirks again. "Oh good," she says. "Saves me a lust spell. Go get him, tiger." She shoves Cas forward; he stumbles against the bedframe and falls onto the mattress, still not looking at Dean. "You've got an hour before you go up in horny flames, so get to it. Sam and I will give you two some privacy, won't we?" She smiles benevolently at Sam, and then they're gone, nothing left behind but that lingering smell of roses.

Dean helps Cas up to sitting, pulls the tape off his mouth. "You OK, dude? Did she hurt you?"

"No," says Cas. "I'm—I'm sorry about this, Dean. You shouldn't have to do this."

"Uh," Dean says, rubbing at the leftover adhesive on Cas's cheek, undeniably enjoying the feel of Cas's stubble against his thumb. "I've done worse, I'll be honest. I'm sorry for you, though."

"No," says Cas again. "It's not—God, Dean, I never wanted it to be like this, but I did want it. Have wanted it."

"Wait, what?" Dean's hand stills on Cas's jaw. "Is that what she meant? Is she—was Marie—this whole subtext thing, there's something really there?"

"Of course there is," Cas says, reaching out to rest his hand on Dean's face. Dean gasps at the contact; Cas's touch burns, down his veins and right to his straining cock. "I've been in love with you for years. I thought you knew."

"I—oh fuck, maybe I did, I can't think straight. But I'm glad I'm not, uh, I'm glad this isn't totally against your will."

"And you, Dean? I will do it to save your life, but the thought of not having your true consent is extremely distressing."

Cas's hand has wandered down to his neck, his thumb stroking the hollow of Dean's throat, and the urge to tear off his clothes and just goddamn ravish him is drowning out every other thought in Dean's head; it takes everything he has, but he wrestles back control for a moment. "Oh, dammit, Cas, yeah, it's not how I pictured our first time either. But I have pictured it. Fuck, I've pictured it a hundred times."

Cas sighs with relief, leans forward, and kisses the breath out of him.

Dean feels like he's on fire and like he's freezing at the same time, and he grabs at Cas like he'll die if he doesn't—well, he will, but there's more enthusiasm behind it than just Erato's threats. He kisses him back, tongues tangling, shoves the trenchcoat off his shoulders and unbuttons his shirt. Cas whimpers and pushes him down onto his back, pushes the T-shirt Dean slept in up under his arms; he bends his head to lick at the tattoo over Dean's heart, scrapes his teeth across a nipple.

"Fuck, Cas, God, Cas, yeah," pours from Dean's mouth; every inch of skin Cas uncovers blazes with want, every cell reaching out for more. "God, get these fucking clothes off, Cas," he says, and Cas pulls back a little, keeping as close as he can while he strips out of his sleeves, undoes his belt with Dean's trembling help and peels off his pants, the white boxers Dean glimpses beneath.

Cas is way more muscular than Dean pictured, all tan skin and lithe strength, and Dean wants to touch all of him at once. He settles for as much as he can, intertwining their legs, lunging to fasten his mouth on Cas's neck while his hands roam his chest and stomach. Cas is gasping, tugging at Dean's boxers, and Dean lifts his hips to let Cas slide them off over his impossibly stiff cock, and when Cas touches it Dean yells into his shoulder and then sinks his teeth into the flesh.

"God, Dean," Cas moans. "Get these off, get these off," and he sounds as frantic as Dean feels, and he thinks they rip some fabric while they wrestle off the last of his clothes. Cas stretches out over him, lining up limb with limb, bodies pressed together, and the jut of Cas's cock against his is the best sensation Dean has ever felt. That is, until Cas pins down Dean's hips and moves suddenly down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck, that's good," pants Dean, and then he loses the ability to form words while Cas grasps the base of his cock and slides his mouth down to meet it. Dean can't tell whether it's just the spell, but it sure feels like the best damn blow job he's ever received, and he buries one hand in Cas's hair and white-knuckles the sheets with the other, whining with pleasure.

Cas shoves up one of Dean's knees and reaches back between his legs, trails his thumb across his balls and taps at his asshole. He pulls off and looks up at Dean. "Do you think it matters who tops?"

Dean shakes some sense into his head. "What, you think we need to do, you think it's gonna need actual, uh, fuck, you think we really gotta fuck?"

"Don't you want to?" Cas licks the tip of his cock, and Dean shudders.

"Yeah," Dean whispers. "Yeah, go ahead."

Cas makes a noise of pure longing and lifts Dean's other knee, nudging them up to his chest and spreading him wide. He runs his tongue slowly down Dean's cock, back over his balls, down and down to circle his asshole, and no, this is definitely the best thing Dean's ever felt. "Come on," says Dean. "Put something in me, I want it."

So Cas licks at him, wet and sloppy, until Dean relaxes and he can push the tip of his tongue inside him. It feels so weird but so right, and Dean arches into it, moaning long and low while Cas works his tongue in and out, index finger teasing at him. "You have something?" says Cas. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Goddammit," Dean grunts. "Yeah, I think there's lube in my bag. Fuck, you're gonna have to stop touching me, aren't you?"

"Come with me," says Cas, and he pulls Dean up to standing, half-supporting him because Dean's knees are basically pudding right now, and they make the agonizing journey over to Dean's duffel, locate the lube, and rush back to the bed. "Can you get on all fours?" asks Cas, and Dean scrambles to obey, whimpers again when Cas spreads his cheeks and dives in with his mouth again.

Soon, there's a slick finger prodding at him instead, and Dean pushes back to meet it. It feels so good he thinks he might die anyway; his head swims with bliss as Cas slowly opens him up, moving another finger into him and finding his prostate. Holy fucking shit, that feels good. "More," says Dean. "More, more."

Cas adds a third finger, stretching them as they slide in and out, and when he takes them out Dean feels so empty, so goddamn needy, he starts begging: "Fuck me, Cas, come on, fuck me." And Cas is merciful, he's thrusting his cock into Dean, and muse be damned, he wants this, he wants to do this again already.

Cas bottoms out with a sigh and curls forward over Dean, kisses the back of his neck. "Are you all right, Dean?" he says in his ear.

"Yeah, Cas," says Dean. "I—yeah, this is right. You know it is."

"I hoped," Cas says, and starts to move.

It must be the spell. Dean's never felt like this before, this sense of comfort, complete fulfillment, growing along with the physical frenzy. Cas fucking him isn't just the best thing, it's everything, and he says so, keeps saying it while Cas rolls against him, hard and deep and fast, while Cas mouths at his jaw and whispers Enochian into his skin. They come like lightning, like an angel unveiled, bright as a shattering star.

And then something's gone from the room, the light more subdued, the air less charged. Cas pulls out of him and collapses on the bed. "Dean," he says. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen, but...I'm glad it did."

Dean lies down next to him. He feels raw and sore and dizzy. And happier than he's been in—no, he doesn't remember ever being this happy. "Yeah, so am I. Guess we owe a muse a fruit basket."

"We should clean up and get dressed before Sam comes back, I suppose." Cas starts to get up, but Dean stops him.

"Hey," he says. "Cas, that was amazing and all, but I want—Cas, I want you to come home with me. Fuck Heaven, seriously. Be where you belong, with us. With me."

Cas's face splits with a grin. "Fuck Heaven," he says, eyes wide with his own audacity. "I would much rather fuck you."


End file.
